Dirty Little Secret
by Ruse
Summary: A look into Snape's choice to abandon his allegiance to Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters.


**Dirty Little Secret**

**Summary**: Snape makes a realization. The last night of his allegiance to Voldemort.

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The house was quite cool now that the fire in the hearth had faded down to nothing. He was not sure why that stood out so prominently in his mind; he was not prone to cataloguing the physical, especially on a night like tonight, but Severus Snape found himself drawing his robe around him as he cast a dark-eyed glare at the night unfolding just outside the window where he stood. The hour escaped him and though curious as he was, he did not turn to find a clock. It would be over soon, he told himself, but deep inside, buried in a part of him he would never admit to, the truth was he did not want to look at what was going on in the next room. There was a sudden crash that seemed to be tempting him to look despite his secret wish not to. The Muggle screamed again. He had heard so many screams since his choice to join these dark wizards, these Death Eaters, that they were starting to sound alike, as if he were reliving the same murder again and again.

Snape grunted and lifted a hand the windowsill to lean against it. The rustle of a page being turned filtered into his keen ears from somewhere to his right. Black had also volunteered to keep watch, but apparently assumed this meant nothing more than to simply occupy the same room as he did. Half tempted to revile him for not attending his duty, Snape tilted his head to give Black a sidelong glance and noticed the other wasn't really looking at the book in his hands, but seemed to be watching the shadows dancing in the room nearby where the others were congregated. His expression was almost tentative and not for the first time the black robed watcher wondered about his customary companion.

Regulus Black was from one of the oldest wizarding families left, brother to that fool Sirius, who brought a scowl to Snape's face just from the mere thought of him. He boasted of hating Muggles and had fervently sought the Death Eaters, winning the respect of his family. The younger brother of his nemesis turned in time to see the look being directed at him and for a moment that strangely troubled expression of his remained, then faded to be replaced by a dry glare. "What are you looking at, Snape?" he asked in a dull tone, returning his eyes discreetly to his book. He turned another page, probably without having even glanced at the previous one.

Ignoring the question, Snape hissed reproachfully, "You _do_ realize this house as a back entrance as well as a front one? That could explain why there are two of us set to keep watch."

"No one's going to come for us," Black growled, turning yet another page. "No one ever does." Somehow he didn't sound so sure of that.

Snape raised his eyebrow and responded coldly, "Perhaps you would be more interested in the book if it had pictures instead of words." He wasn't sure if it was the cool air, the tedious task of watching the skies, the screams of the Muggle woman or a combination of them all, but he felt a certain need to keep taunting Black. It was satisfying, somehow, though he had detested each encounter with the elder brother when they had attended school together. Something glass in the next room shattered and there was another piercing scream. He glanced out the window, then back at Black, finding himself impatient for a reply.

"Perhaps you'd like to shut up," Black retorted, tossing the book aside and running his hands through his dark hair. He let out a shaky breath when the woman screamed out, begging for her tormentors to stop whatever it was they were doing. He threw a look at the doorway, then settled back against the couch and eyed his companion, seeming uncomfortable with the silence. "Why do you always offer to be lookout, Snape?"

The question threw him off guard and he found himself unprepared to answer. "Someone has to do it," he said finally, looking again at the night sky, the dark street, the trees. They were quite alone here in the forest at this farm where had dwelled a Muggle couple that had but one child, a young second year that wasn't going back to Hogwarts for his third. Not now, now that they had been visited.

The sounds of begging once again filled the air. How long would this go on? It had been over an hour. The husband had not made a noise in at least the past fifteen minutes, suggesting he had found an end to his suffering, but something kept the woman going. "My son, let me see him!" she whimpered as if in response to his curiosity. Snape pursed his lips, understanding. So that was it. She thought her child was still alive. A mother could go through extreme amounts of torment for the sake of living for her children, he had discovered. He almost wished he didn't know.

"I wish she'd be quiet!" Black growled, jerking a throw pillow into his hands and twisting it restlessly.

Snape gave him an appraising look. "Does it bother you, Black, who hates Muggles and Mudbloods?"

"Does it you?"

They shared a moment between them that he wasn't sure the meaning of, but before either of them could pursue it a ruckus drew their eyes to the doorway as the Muggle woman darted out. She almost stopped, seeing her living room occupied by two more of her hated attackers, but her desperation drove her down the hallway on the other side of the room. Her clothes were torn and blood seemed to paint her simple night dress and her skin, a vision soon gone as she disappeared from his sight. She called out for her son with a hoarse voice and opened a door somewhere deeper in the farmhouse.

From the kitchen in which they had tortured she and her husband came a few of the Death Eaters in service of Lord Voldemort, some of which ran after her with laughter in their voices. A tall man with pale hair lingered behind, rubbing casually at a spot of blood on the white shirt gleaming from beneath his black robe. Lucius Malfoy looked up at Snape and his lips curled into a grin. "Poor Severus, you never have any fun," he practically purred.

Snape tilted his head back, allowing himself to offer a pale imitation of the other man's expression. "As much fun as I don't have, standing here, I think I would have less fun in Azkaban if no one else were watching." He threw an unappreciative glare at Black.

Malfoy laughed at that. He was always in a good mood on nights like these. "Quite right, quite right," he said playfully, as if he believed the idea of them getting into trouble was preposterous. A scream from the back of the house made those crystal eyes seemed to glow with hunger.

The other two in the room forgotten, Malfoy turned his attention upon the Muggle woman as she was dragged back into the room, sobbing piteously, saying the name of her son, crying, "You killed him!" Her eyes flitted past Snape's momentarily and he saw the despair reflected back from those depths. She knew what was coming now. She knew and accepted it, thirsted for it.

He turned back towards the window, leaning once more against the sill. The absence of much light outside caused what little there was within to reflect the shapes in the pane of glass before him. He saw Lucius lift his wand and aim towards the shaking woman on her knees before him. Not inclined to see it happen as he had seen it before, Snape blocked the reflection with his own form and fixed his eyes on the pearly moon as Malfoy hissed, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The Muggle crumbled to the floor and the sound of it filled the otherwise silent room. It was over now. They did not linger behind, steal trophies or hide the bodies, but merely filed towards the front door, muttering in gratification amongst themselves. Malfoy came up behind Snape and clapped him on the shoulder. "Another close call, my friend. It is good we finished before dawn this time. You are so good to watch over us."

Snape gave him a surly look, which only increased the humor in his eyes as he stepped out into the night air with the others, Black close behind him. Letting out a breath, he drew his eyes away from the door and noticed that the sleeve covering his left arm had drifted down from his wrist, showing him the very beginnings of the Dark Mark burned onto his skin. A picture of the hidden portion of his Mark formed in his mind without effort to summon it forth and he stared, only half hearing his comrades calling for him. He was beginning to realize something that he did not want to realize, for it meant he did not know himself as well as he thought and it meant death if Lord Voldemort ever had a clue.

He wanted out.

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**Author**: Angel Ruse 

**Email**: angelruse**AT**gmail**DOT**com

**Archive**: Go for it. I would, however, appreciate being told where, if only so I can go there and find other lovely ficcies to read.

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy don't belong to me, nor Regulus and Sirius, nor Muggles, nor Wizards or Witches or anything in the Harry Potter universe. Those belong to the talented JK Rowling. I'm just playing with her toys for a little bit.

**A/N:** Just because I wasn't going to be satisfied without a Harry Potter fic under my belt. Was listening to a song called "PS" by Project86 and there is a certain line talking about darkness that says, "It always takes us further than we wanted to go, always keeps us longer than we wanted to stay," which painted this little scene in my head. Love my Snape. drools like a beast

_If you like Lord of the Rings or the Matrix chat and/or roleplaying, please see my profile for a link to my hyperboard. I'm thinking of opening a Harry Potter section if there's enough interest as well, not sure._


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